Review by ZeroSymbolic7188 for Metallica - St. Anger (2003)

User Shadowdoom9 (Andi) writes "Interesting review, Zach. Now I'm curious about your thoughts on Metallica's other highly hated album St. Anger. I haven't listened to that one but I'm aware of the amount of hate it has received." In response to my review of the much maligned Lulu project. 

Well, ask and ye sha'll recieve...

The late 90s and early 2000s saw the emergence of nu-metal acts such as Slipknot, Korn, Limp Bizkit, Disturbed, System of a Down, and so forth. That context is important when trying to understand Metallica's St. Anger, Megadeth's Risk, or Slayer's Diabolus in Music. These albums aren't the worst things ever made, but they are widely considered to be missteps in the discographies of otherwise legendary thrash metal bands of the 1980s. The effect was kind of like a lame dad trying to relate to his angsty teenage son. It was uncomfortable and a little awkward because "dad just doesn't get it." The old legends were a bit out of their element is what I mean. In Metallica's particular case add on top of it that the band and it's members were a mess at the time-if you have not seen the rockumentary "Some Kind of Monster" it's kind of a mandatory watch, and explains a lot about why this thing came out the way it did. Then of course there is that god forsaken snare tone BONG BONG BONG BONG.

Let me explain how that snare makes me feel, as a young man I once rented a video game called Turok Dinosaur Hunter 2: Seeds of Evil. The game is recently remastered, and worth playing for nostalgia or if you enjoy "boomer shooters". Why do I bring this up? The game features a weapon called the Cerebral Bore. You fire the Cerebral Bore at an enemy and it drills into their skull then explodes, blowing the head off in gory fashion: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8CaiXVbFZXI That is what the snare drum on this album does. It gradually bores it's way into your brain until your mind explodes-no not in the fun way, but rather in the dentist drill during a root canal kind of way. It's damn unpleasant, and it doesn't stop. 

The best thing about this is album is the opening track "Frantic", because it contains an absolutely goofy chorus FRANTIC-TICK-TOCK, TICK, TICK-TICK-TOK! and the line "My lifestyle determines my death style." Which I've been internally and externally debating if it is brilliant or the absolute stupidest fucking line in a song ever sang. I think it's very cheesy like a goofy Doctor Seus thing, but James is singing it with his whole heart like it's the deepest shit he ever wrote, and damned if I don't want to hear him do it from time to time. That track is responsible for 0.5 of the 1 star I gave this album.

The title track is a weird metaphor that just doesn't work. St. Anger-he's bustin' out, he's bustin out... it's dumb as all hell, and yet I constantly reference it in near daily conversations with my wife whenever a student at work (we are teachers) or our family dog becomes clearly irritated with something we can't explain-it's St. Anger.. he's bustin' out, he's bustin out! That's another .25 of the single star rating.

The remaining .25 is for "Purify" which would be great if it was about 1/3rd as long as it is. 

Everything else on this album is a waste of time. 5 of the remaining 7 songs are over 5 minutes long, some getting up around 7 or even 9 minutes in length, and there was not a single idea on this album worth expressing for more than 3... no 2 and 1/2 minutes. Shave these songs down to their best parts, and make a punk album and hey I could see it... except BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG. There is no saving that snare tone, and listen I know that snare tone is a running gag in the metal community, but it really is some unholy torture device if you listen to this album in one sitting. I can not remember a single memorable thing about any of those songs, not a single thing, not line, not a riff, none of it. I remember the BONG BONG though, the goddamned BONG BONG BONG.

Without the context of Some Kind of Monster, you would think this album was some kind of sadistic hazing ritual on Robert Trujillo. "Welcome to Metallica now play the shittiest music you've ever played", but it wasn't-nobody is that sick and cruel. 

It was an unpleasant, misguided experience that nobody, not even the band, enjoyed. This is not the album Metallica wanted to make, this was the album that Metallica had to make at that time, and it plays like it.